All the Things That Could Go Wrong

by Stewart Foster

  ‘So we’ll do that, Dan. Okay?’

  Do what? They’ve made a decision without even asking me.

  Mr Francis makes a note on his pad. ‘You go to lessons as usual, but then come and see me at the end of each day … for the rest of this week.’

  The minibus goes out of the gates. I don’t even know why I’m here. Mum and Mr Francis don’t understand. No one understands. Except Ben and he’s not here.

  I walk towards the door and wait for my mum, but she’s still standing with Mr Francis.

  ‘We’ll be with you in a minute, Dan,’ says Mr Francis. ‘Just wait outside.’

  I sit on a chair. I hear voices echoing, something banging and the hoot of the floor polisher coming down the corridor. I put my hands in my pockets and bump the back of my head gently against the wall. The school is more like a church when everyone’s gone home. I try to listen to what my mum is saying to Mr Francis, but all I can hear is mumbling and then I can’t even hear that as the floor polisher gets closer. I hope it’s nothing embarrassing, like I cried when Ben left or that I used to sleep with a toy monkey.

  Alex: All I’ve got to do is say three words

  ‘When you’re ready, Alex. Just remember: rhythm, rhythm, rhythm.’ Mrs Hunter puts her hand on her knee, like tapping out the rhythm will help me get started.

  I put my fingers on the frets, then take my hand away and wipe my palms on my trousers. Mrs Hunter has stopped tapping her hand. Emma and Jake are looking at me like they’re willing me to play. I wipe my hands again and put my left hand back on the neck of my guitar. I want to play, but my fingers are so sore that the strings are cutting into them like knives. I pull my hands away again.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Mrs Hunter looks at my hands and winces like she can feel the pain too. ‘Jake, let’s hear what you’ve been up to and we’ll try Alex again after.’

  Jake leans over his guitar.

  ‘Tempo, tempo, tempo, and don’t worry about the words. We’re here to learn guitar, not auditioning for The X Factor.’

  Emma and Jake smile and I try to. None of us want to go on The X Factor, even if my annoying sister thinks I do.

  Jake starts to play ‘Thinking Out Loud’ by Ed Sheeran. I look at my hands. The threat of having my head flushed in the toilet has made me wash twice as much this week. They still haven’t done it, but just the thought of it and having Dan staring at me all the time is making me stress even more. The school used to feel huge, but now it’s so small that I’ve run out of places to hide. I’ve only got to last two more days until the holidays, but even then I have to see Dan at the weekend. There’s no escape. I went to see Mr Francis at lunchtime. As I walked down the corridor, I practised the three words in my head – I’m being bullied. I’m being bullied – but when I got there his office door was locked. I’m going to try again after this lesson.

  Jake plays the last chord. Mrs Hunter tells him that he’s improving, but he needs to try and work on moving his fingers clear of the strings a bit quicker. Then she looks at me.

  ‘Would you like to try again, Alex, or leave it until the next lesson after half-term?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I say. I lean over my guitar and put my fingers on the frets. Dr Patrick said I can’t let my worries stop me from doing things that I enjoy.

  I pinch the strings and they cut into my fingers and I start to play ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber. I don’t care what Lizzie says. I like the song and she isn’t here anyway. I nod my head, count the bars and then try to sing. But I can’t remember any of the words.

  ‘It’s okay,’ whispers Mrs Hunter. ‘Keep playing.’

  My fingers move over the strings and the frets, but it’s like they don’t belong to me. Music is supposed to help me escape, but now all I can think about is what I’m going to say to Mr Francis after we’ve finished. I’m being bullied. I’m being bullied. I’m being bullied by Dan and Sophie and I can’t make it stop.

  I finish playing. Mrs Hunter says I did well, then tells us what we have to work on over the holidays. I pack my guitar into its case, but my hands are shaking so much I can hardly close the clasps. Jake opens the door and walks out. I can sense Emma looking at me, like she’s waiting for me to walk out with her like I did last week. But she can’t see me walking to Mr Francis’s office. No one can. I turn away from her, wipe my guitar case down. Mrs Hunter picks up her bag. I keep wiping. I hear footsteps behind me. When I look back over my shoulder, everyone has gone. I put my guitar on my back and walk out.

  I’m being bullied. I’m being bullied, I repeat as I go down the corridor. All I’ve got to do is say it once and then it could all be over.

  As I turn the corner into the blue corridor, my chest pulls tight and my heart is thumping so hard it’s like it’s beating against the walls.

  Dan: Snap!

  Mum has been chatting to Mr Francis for ages. I’m getting really bored and just want to go home. I get my phone out of my bag. We’re not supposed to use them during the day, but lessons finished half an hour ago. I text Sophie.

  Where did you go?

  She messages back straightaway.

  Met Leanne and went to the park. Did you give Shark Face a hair wash?

  No. We waited for you. Get him tomorrow.

  Yeah.

  The polisher suddenly stops. I stop texting. Mr Jevons isn’t a teacher, but he’s still able to take our phones away. I hear footsteps. It sounds like Mr Jevons is heading towards the storeroom to get more polish or maybe he’s gone to take the plug out of the socket. I put my phone in my bag and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. Mr Jevons’s footsteps get louder. I wait for the sound of the storeroom door opening, but the footsteps keep going, then stop level with me.

  ‘Oh!’ someone says. I lift my head.

  Shark Face is looking straight at me with his mouth open like he’s been struck by lightning.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss.

  ‘I was just …’

  ‘You were just going!’ I say.

  Mr Francis’s door opens.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ says my mum. ‘I’ll chat to Dave tonight and see if he agrees.’

  I stare at Shark Face.

  You dare!

  ‘Oh hello, Alex,’ says Mum, like she’s happy to see him. ‘How are you getting on?’

  ‘I’m … I’m … okay,’ Shark Face stutters.

  ‘Just keep in touch,’ says Mr Francis. He puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me out into the main corridor. Then he looks at Shark Face and smiles.

  ‘Yes, Alex, what can I do for you?’

  Shark Face darts his eyes in my direction. He’s been bullying me. That’s what he’s going to say and he’s going to say it now, right here in front of Mr Francis and my mum.

  Shark Face opens his mouth.

  You dare. You dare.

  ‘Alex?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I was just getting my guitar and then going home.’

  He turns and walks down the corridor.

  Don’t say it, Mum.

  ‘Alex, would you like a lift home?’

  Shark Face starts walking so quick he almost runs.

  Alex: Argh!

  Argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Dan: Shark Face goes for a swim

  ‘Hold him still, Dan. Hold him—’ Sophie starts to giggle. ‘Come on. Just grab his legs.’

  ‘No. Don’t. Please.’ Shark Face is trapped against the toilet door. We’ve been looking for him all lunch hour and finally found him in the maths-block toilets.

  ‘Please, pleeeease.’ Sophie giggles again. ‘Come on, Dan, and you, George. What are you waiting for?’

  George W. bends down and tries to grab one of Shark Face’s legs. Shark Face kicks his hand away.

  ‘No. Don’t. Don’t!’

  ‘We just want to wash your hair. Dan! Come on!’

  I reach down for Shark Face’s leg. His knee whacks against my chin. He looks so scared that I’m begi
nning to think this is a bad idea.

  ‘Why don’t we just put his head under the taps?’ I ask.

  ‘What?! No way! You said he’d been to see Mr Francis! Just grab him.’

  ‘Is anyone coming?’ I say to George C., who’s by the door, on lookout.

  He steps out into the corridor, then comes back in.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘Just hurry.’

  I kick Shark Face’s bag out of the way and it slides across the floor to the sink. George W. nods at me, then we try to grab Shark Face’s legs at the same time, but they’re flailing away like a trapped spider’s. He kicks me on my arm and one of his knees knocks George W. in the face.

  ‘Ow!’ George W shouts and holds his hand up to his nose.

  ‘I didn’t see him. I didn’t tell him anything.’

  ‘We don’t care,’ says Sophie. ‘We’re going to do it anyway.’

  Shark Face kicks again.

  ‘Come on, George,’ says Sophie. ‘You’re useless.’ She wraps her arms round Shark Face’s chest. ‘Just grab his legs anywhere and then we’ll tip him up.’

  Shark Face scrunches his face up. It’s the same face he pulled when he was picking up the bottles. I get a weird feeling in my stomach. Almost like I feel sorry for him. But I can’t feel sorry for him. Sophie will think I’ve gone soft.

  ‘Dan! Come on!’

  ‘No don’t, Dan.’ Shark Face stares at me like he’s going to cry any second.

  ‘Don’t, Dan,’ says George W. in a reedy voice. ‘Don’t, Dan.’

  No! Shark Face called me Dan in front of them. He’s going to tell them he was at the cave with me next. They can’t know that. I bend down and wrap my arms round his knees.

  ‘Come on!’ I shout at George W. He grabs Shark Face’s ankles and the three of us lift him and tilt his head towards the toilet. I wait for him to shout again, but his body has gone stiff like he’s too frightened to shout any more.

  ‘Closer,’ says Sophie.

  Me and George lift his legs higher. Coins fall out of Shark Face’s pockets. Some of them go into the toilet; others rattle as they hit the edge and roll across the toilet floor.

  Shark Face reaches out and puts his gloved hands on the toilet seat. Sophie knocks them away and reaches for the flush.

  ‘Someone’s coming! Someone’s coming!’ says George C. urgently.

  We drop Shark Face on the ground.

  Sophie bends down. ‘Don’t talk to a teacher,’ she says. ‘Or we’ll put your head right in there next time.’

  ‘I haven’t talked to anyone. I didn’t get to see Mr Francis,’ says Shark Face.

  ‘We don’t care. Just promise you won’t.’

  ‘Okay.’ Shark Face looks up. ‘Okay.’

  But he’s not looking at Sophie. He’s looking at me.

  Alex: The worst thing anyone could do

  My gloves are covered with wee and poo.

  I can take my left one off, but I’ll have to take the right one off with my bare hands.

  I need a pair of gloves to take off my gloves.

  I’ll use toilet roll instead.

  The toilet roll is full of germs.

  I’ll use my disinfectant.

  The disinfectant is in my bag and I’ll have to touch my bag to get it out and then I’ll have to wipe that too.

  I’ll take the disinfectant out, then wipe my bag, then wipe my gloves, then take my gloves off, then wipe the disinfectant packet, then wipe my hands.

  Don’t panic. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. I’m in charge.

  You’re not.

  I am. I’ve just got to get this done.

  I sniff.

  There’s poo in my hair.

  It didn’t actually go in the toilet.

  It did. I need to wash it, but I need to touch the taps and with my gloves.

  There’s poo on my arm too.

  It’s everywhere. On my sleeve, up my nose. Every time I breathe, I can feel it travelling down my throat and into my lungs.

  Calm down.

  I need to calm down. I rest my head against the toilet wall. If only I’d spoken to Mr Francis yesterday.

  If only Dan wasn’t there.

  If only I wasn’t such a wimp

  If.

  If.

  If.

  Put your worries into boxes.

  Dan, Sophie, George W., George C.

  Make the boxes smaller.

  It’s not working. I’m bashing the boxes down, but the worries are jumping back out.

  It’s got to work. I’ve got to get home.

  I reach into my bag.

  My Worry List

  1. Everybody is going to die.

  2. My hands are covered in poo. It’s under my fingernails, growing up my fingers, spreading across all the veins on the back of my hand. It’s creeping up my arms, across my chest and into my heart. I hope Dan touched it. I hope he dies.

  3. No, I don’t hope that. I hope he gets ill. I hope when he drinks his Coke in the cave that he picks up a can of rat poison by mistake.

  4. I’m a bad person for thinking that. I don’t want him to die. But if he did at least he wouldn’t be at school to pick on me.

  5. But he’ll be waiting at the cave on Saturday. I hope Dad’s car breaks down so we can’t get there.

  6. The brakes will fail and we’ll crash through the railings on the seafront, flip over like the car Elliott saw on Police Interceptors and we won’t stop rolling until we reach the sea.

  7. Dad’s going to drown and all the people and dogs on the beach will get flattened. I don’t want Dad’s brakes to fail. I just want him to run out of petrol so we don’t even get there.

  8. The car will run out of petrol right in the middle of a junction and a bus will smash into us and me and Dad will die and Mum and Lizzie will be left at home all on their own. I’ve got to go to the cave to stop Dan drinking the poison and I’ll walk so nothing can happen to Dad’s car.

  9. I can’t walk. It’ll take me ages because of the dog and bird poo. By the time I get there, Dan will have drunk the poison.

  10. Dan’s going to die.

  11. Everybody is going to die.

  Dan: I feel a bit bad

  It’s nearly teatime and I’m lying on my bed playing Call of Duty. But I can’t concentrate. Major Ingram keeps getting blown up before I have time to fire. It’s because I feel a bit bad about what I did to Shark Face yesterday. When I was walking home today with Sophie and the Georges they were talking about the things they were going to do over half term. I kept quiet about working with Shark Face but they kept pretending they were him and were shouting, ‘Please, Dan! Please stop them, Dan!’ as we walked down the road. Then they started laughing and I pretended I found it funny, but I kept thinking of the way he stared at me as I walked out. It was like he was blaming me for everything, like I should have stopped it. But I couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to.

  My phone buzzes. It’s a message from Sophie.

  Are you coming to McDonald’s with us tomorrow, or not?

  Don’t think so.

  Loser! But you’re going to OBS Tower on Tuesday. Yes?

  Yes.

  I’d rather be working on Shooting Star. But I am looking forward to the tower opening. George C.’s dad has got him two VIP tickets and he might be able to get some more. Everyone at school wants to go up the tower.

  The front door clicks open and slams shut. Dad’s just got home. It’s Friday night so he’ll have brought Indian takeaway back for tea. He shouts up at me to come and get it.

  ‘In a minute!’ I shout back. I guide Major Ingram between some oil drums and tanks and press pause. I go to run downstairs, but stop when I hear Dad raising his voice.

  ‘Really!’ he shouts. ‘You want to do this now, when I’ve just got in?’

  ‘Well, when else?’ says Mum. ‘You’ve either working or watching football.’

  ‘Well, not in the middle of my bloody tea.’ I hear him slam the food down on the kitchen t
able. ‘I already said what I think,’ says my dad. ‘Definitely not. I don’t see how it helps either of them.’

  I wish they wouldn’t argue. Every time one of them shouts, it makes me go hot inside. Dad walks into the sitting room. My mum follows behind. ‘Just think about it, Dave. Mr Francis—’

  ‘Mr Francis, what does he know? He’s a teacher not their father. I think it’s a bad idea.’

  The sitting-room door closes. This is going to turn into another row about me and Ben. I creep halfway down the stairs, but all I can hear are mumbles. What does my mum want to do? And why doesn’t my dad want to do it? I think of going down and putting my head against the door, but they caught me doing that the night the police came for Ben.

  I couldn’t hear much, just odd words, like drink, off-licence and cigarettes. Then I heard something about a girl. That’s when the door suddenly opened and I saw Ben standing between two policemen in the middle of our sitting room and Mum was on the sofa with a policewoman. I thought Mum was crying, but then she took her hand away and told me to go upstairs. I went into Mum and Dad’s room and looked out of the window. There were two police cars parked outside with their lights flashing. Then I saw Ben being walked up the path and put in the back of one of them.

  A cupboard door slams in the kitchen. The argument is getting so angry, I don’t want to hear any more. I put my headphones on to block it out. Major Ingram gets blown up straightaway. I can’t concentrate, but I have to do something. I keep the headphones on, but unplug them so I can walk around in silence. I unhook Rex’s water bottle and refill it in the bathroom. Then I put some nuts in his bowl and put his bottle back.

  I look around my room for something else to do. I don’t feel like drawing and I’ve watched all my DVDs. I go into Ben’s bedroom and check on Horace. He’s light green so he’s feeling okay. I give him three crickets and he snaps them up like I’ve not fed him for a week.

  Through my headphones I hear a door slam, then footsteps thudding up the stairs. I walk out on to the landing. Mum slams her bedroom door shut. I take my headphones off and hear her crying in the bedroom. I hate listening to them argue. I hate it when Mum cries. My heart beats like a drum. I put my headphones back on, but in my head I can still hear the noise. I have to do something to block it out, something I can concentrate on.